A Whole Town Mourns a Missing Dog

The dog that belonged to no one and everyone is missing.  And an entire town is grieving. 

Believed to be a collie and lab mix, Harper also known as "Lucky," and "Legend," used to lay sentinel at one of the busiest intersections in Corinth, Miss. The intersection at Harper Road and Popular Street was his namesake and home for more than a decade, but no one knows how long for sure. He was always there catching rays when the sun was shining. And, when it wasn’t, volunteers built insulated shelters for him under the nearby bridge.

He was very gentle, very shy and did not care for human company. Few, even long-time friends who fed and watered him consistently could ever get close enough to touch him without him moving along.  Some might say it was the personality of any older Southern gentleman who just wants his freedom and to be left alone. And, maybe to chase a few fire trucks now and then.

He was loved and taken care of by hundreds of passersby; well-fed and always with clean water nearby. The city dog catcher is noticeably missing from this story and Harper’s freedom was never threatened, even though his camp site was only minutes from the city animal shelter. And, although they tried many times to catch him, he was like a wise old hobo outsmarting the police.

In many ways, this is a story that is only now being told because Harper is missing. The fact that he was homeless was a secret kept safe by a lot of folks in the town, and, even, his hometown newspaper. Because publicity might have led to a bad outcome for Harper.

You see Corinth has a leash law.  This does not bode well for a homeless dog.  But living in a place where individuals value their freedom of choice to live in mansions or under a bridge, somehow people felt the decision to live the life Harper apparently loved, was Harper’s choice.  There were stories of many people trying to befriend the dog and take him home.  But Harper’s place in the shade of a utility box by the intersection was home.

Friends put out water, food, an old car seat that he did not sleep on, preferring instead the concrete sidewalk or grass, depending which way the sun chased a shade.  Businesses nearby also had food and water sitting outside. 

He was a street-wise old roamer, just as likely to be seen two or three miles away near local sandwich shops as at the intersection.  But it was the intersection where he spent most of his days, snoozing in the sunshine or watching cars go by.

There were weeks in his younger years, when Harper would go missing.  After one of those “vacations,” he was seen shortly after with a female beagle and several pups.  Many little “Harpers” are said to be around the city and are prized by owners if you can find one with Harper’s blood line.

Harper had a special meaning for me.  Each time I made the long drive from my home in Kansas City to my mother's home in Corinth, I would pass Harper. And, I knew, I was almost home. 

Some might wonder, rightfully so, how different Harper's ending might have been, safe in someone’s back yard or on a living room hearth.  But just as many believe it would have taken the life out of the old dog.  

For now, Corinth is just waiting for whatever closure might come one day about Harper.  He led a good life, residents say.  And Corinth was able to witness something truly amazing with Harper—a community of people who pulled together to take care of an old dog who slept at an intersection and just wanted his freedom.